Chapter 127 Hogsmeade Village
On the coastline, a black figure moved quickly through the air. The man rode a broom and carried a huge object like a gate through the clouds.
The hunting sea breeze blew in my face, and layers of white waves rolled under my feet. The weightless Bowman floated leisurely beside him, mocking from time to time: "This is the work of a modern wizard? What a broken broom, it's too troublesome to use it to make a fire."
"This is the best Nimbus 2000 available today."
"Haha, it's not as good as a feather on the wings of Daedalus. Little wizard, fly slowly, I'll wait for you at Hogwarts." Old Bowman smiled proudly and disappeared into the sea of clouds.
"It's not certain who will be faster." Rogge took out the golden flying feather and held it gently. A force hooked his navel, but was interrupted by the oil painting on his shoulder.
"Damn it, you can't use the door key!" Rogge cursed and had no choice but to fly forward with the oil painting on his shoulders.
Flying, flying, my shoulder head; flying, flying, who can help me...
Rogge took pleasure in his misery and arrived at the Scottish Highlands in the evening. What comes into view is the village of Hogsmeade, and the Hogwarts Castle not far away.
"Finally here!" Rogge lowered his broom and slammed into the no-fly zone of Hogsmeade Village.
The broomstick suddenly lost power, and a little wizard, a huge painting, and a broomstick fell down.
Professor McGonagall, who was shopping in Hogsmeade, looked up when she heard the noise and quickly pulled out her wand.
"Ah..." Rogge screamed and waved his wand, trying to turn the big tree below into a cushion.
But before he could take action, a magical force wrapped around his body and rescued him. It's a pity that the curtain of time was not controlled and crashed into the small villa by the river.
"Roger, who allowed you to do such a dangerous thing?" Professor McGonagall caught him, put him down and severely criticized him.
"I'm sorry, Professor, I didn't expect there was a no-fly spell here..." Rogge took the broomstick and lowered his head to explain.
"You're flying here alone, what if something happens to you? Can't you use floo powder?" Professor McGonagall scolded.
"And old Bowman."
"Old Bowman?" Professor McGonagall asked doubtfully.
"It's just a ghost. He's already at school."
"what happened?"
"Well, Professor, can you get the painting back first?" Rogge pointed to the small villa by the river. Professor McGonagall had some hesitation on his face.
She pondered for a moment and said, "Let's go."
Rogge thought Professor McGonagall would continue to criticize him, but unexpectedly she suddenly became very silent.
"Professor, do you want to knock on the door..."
Before Rogge finished speaking, Mag took out a key from his wallet. With a click, the rusty lock opened.
"Professor, is this your home?" Rogge looked at Mag carefully, wondering how he could be so unlucky. Isn't this equivalent to kicking the ball into the teacher's house?
"Yes." Professor McGonagall nodded, unwilling to say more.
Roger followed her to the overgrown garden in the backyard. It seems that Professor McGonagall hasn't been back for a long time. The painting was inserted into the soil just right, and Bowman in it kept throwing things at Rogge.
"Is this a magical portrait?"
"Yes, it's Bowman Wright, the creator of The Golden Snitch. No!"
"Isn't that right?" Mag used Feather Technique to pull the painting out of the soil, but the painting remained indifferent. She looked at the portrait in confusion, why did the magic fail?
"Professor, let me pick it up." Roger said carefully, walking over and pulling it out.
When Professor McGonagall saw that he was about to carry the oil painting, he quickly went over to help. Rogge shook his head: "Professor, this thing is too heavy to block magic. Let me do it myself."
"Wait a moment." Mag said and returned to the room. She cut off a piece of clothing and put it on Rogge's shoulders as a buffer.
Rogge nodded and carried it up again with the help of the professor.
"Let's go!" Professor McGonagall looked at the old house and the overgrown courtyard, and locked the door again.
The two walked along the gravel road through the village of Hogsmeade. The villagers saw the little wizard carrying a huge oil painting and gathered around to watch. Some wizards also picked up magic polaroids and took pictures of Rogge.
Rogge quickly covered his face with his sleeves. He had already thought of the headline of tomorrow's Daily Prophet:
Shock! The students were sweating profusely, but the professor was watching indifferently!
The little wizard parades the streets with giant objects!
…
Everyone followed Rogge curiously, and the scene of being watched didn't end until they walked out of Hogsmeade Village.
"Professor, do you live on campus?" Roger asked in a low voice.
Mag nodded and said nothing. Rogge's mouth was a little bitter, how could a person be so unlucky! How could this thing end up at Professor McGonagall's house! Also, why does Hogsmeade have a no-flying curse?
The two of them had their own worries. As soon as they entered the school, they saw Snape waiting for him in the hall.
Snape nodded to McGonagall and said to Roger: "The principal and old Bowman went to France."
"So fast?" He put the oil painting on the ground, holding on to the pillar and gasping for air.
"What happened?" Snape and McGonagall looked at Rogge curiously.
"I went to the Quidditch Swamp and met a group of very bad wizards." Rogge took out Carl's wand. "The accent sounds like they are poachers from the United States. They are called the Thunderbirds."
"Thunderbirds?" Snape and McGonagall looked at each other. They had never heard of this organization in the UK.
"Later, I was blocked by them in Bowman's alchemy workshop, and it took a lot of effort to escape..."
Snape listened to Roger's story and knew that he was starting to make it up. But as long as people are fine, a few poaching dark wizards will die. As for how Rogue killed them, Snape didn't care.
"My Golden Snitch eggs were snatched away by the last wizard, a whole clutch! There are five of them!"
"Golden Snitch?" Professor McGonagall was very surprised. "Weren't they extinct for a long time? Why are there still eggs?"
"Old Bowman preserved it with ancient magic during his lifetime. Professor, is there any way to get it back?"
"It's difficult." McGonagall shook her head. "Since they are a group of American poachers, they must have fled back. The other side of the Atlantic Ocean belongs to the Magical Congress of the United States of America. We can only ask for assistance."
"Not necessarily." Snape said, "Since he is a poacher, he will definitely sell the things in his hands. Find a wizard who is familiar with the place and is willing to protect magical animals, and there is a chance to bring back the Golden Snitch egg. "
Professor McGonagall turned to look at Snape and frowned: "You mean Newt?"
Snape smiled but didn't answer.
"That Master of Magical Beasts?" Rogge asked.
"He has retired." Mag pondered for a long time, and finally sighed: "Well, if he knew it was Gold Snitch, he wouldn't be indifferent."
"Come on, Roger, let's go to Dorset."
"Now?"
"If you delay for one more second, your egg may not be recovered." Professor McGonagall reminded.
Roger was pushed into the fireplace by McGonagall, and he quickly shouted to Snape: "Teacher, help me bring a message home, please help me with the oil painting..."
"Hmph!" Snape snorted coldly, threw up his sleeves and walked away.
